


Objects of my affection

by liketheroad



Category: Bandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-15
Updated: 2008-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:10:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheroad/pseuds/liketheroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Bob is a marshmallow (although not literally), Spencer is the prettiest, and Jon has secret manpain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Objects of my affection

Most people don’t know this about him, but if you take the time to get to know the man, which Jon is proud to say he has, you’ll realize this fundamental fact: Bob Bryar is a marshmallow.

Most people never get past being too intimidated to actually talk to Bob, and therefore, miss this. Which, okay, Jon can sort of see. Outwardly, Bob is clearly a total badass, and he carries himself with the confident air of someone who can totally fuck you up if they want to, but are laid back enough about it that no one is going to get themselves in that position. Bob is sturdy, and he has a beard, and a lip ring, and he plays drums in a rotating series of hardcore bands. He once kept on playing while his leg was literally on fire.

 

That kind of thing gets around.

 

The other parts of Bob, like the way he loves Mister Bean or carried his friend Frankie around for a whole evening on his shoulders because Frank was having a bad day and liked to be up high, are less commonly known on the Chicago scene. To get that stuff, you actually have to talk to Bob, to creep up into his admittedly intimidating personal space. It’s a little tricky, being brave enough to make that step, not because Bob is actually scary, but because he is kind of a legend of awesome, and that part, at least, gets around too.

 

Jon had grown up in the scene, almost all his friends were in bands, playing shows with other friends and their bands, going to parties together, dating each other, talking shit about getting famous, making it. So he’d heard of Bob, had seen him drumming in clubs and basements, had been at parties where he’d caught a glimpse of him. They were friends with the same people, but it took Jon buckling down a bit, going to college and getting a regular job, to actually bridge the gap between friendly acquaintance and a guy you could call any time of the day, just to talk shit or maybe ask for a favor. 

 

Jon had been working at Starbucks for a few months when Bob started coming in everyday around 11 o’clock. Jon always served him, and the guy he came with, because he was a good employee like that. After a few visits, they moved from small talk to little jokes, banter that was based on familiarity instead of politeness. It was around then that he got his first glimpse of Marshmallow Bob, when he eventually admitted to Jon he didn’t even drink coffee, himself, but was only coming along on these runs to monitor the caffeine intake of his friend Gerard. 

 

“Seriously. If someone doesn’t come with him, he’ll just spend all day in here, drinking and sketching. Which would be fine, but he has class, you know?” Bob shrugged. “Anyway, I promised his kid brother Mikey I’d watch out for him, at least try to make sure he doesn’t accidentally starve to death trying to live on a diet of lattes alone.”

 

After that, Jon felt a little braver. He was a friendly guy, a charming man, so once he realized Bob was a secret sweetheart, he totally worked his charms on him without anxiety. He liked Bob, he’d already known that, but he had been a little less sure Bob would like him back. And sometimes Jon didn’t mind, enjoyed the challenge, even, but he didn’t want to press, in this regard. Bob seemed, among other things, like a guy who deserved to be left alone if that’s what he wanted. Jon could totally do respectful, he was a master gentleman, but all in all, he was pretty happy that hadn’t been what was required in Bob’s case.

 

So they’re friends, now, good friends. Jon’s got a year left in his degree and he’s a manager at the ‘Bucks, and Bob still comes in every morning with Gerard, but he leaves Gerard to the darkest table in the place, to mutter to himself and draw until his first class, while Bob himself spends most of this time at the bar, talking to Jon between customers. They’ve played together a few times, Jon’s alright on bass, nothing like Bob is on drums, but it’s just casual stuff, filling in for friends, having a good time. That’s what Jon loves about music, anyway, and Bob, for all that he’s basically a rock god, or could be, if he wanted to, is nothing but generous and casual with his own talents. Jon’s been over to Bob’s mom’s even, for dinner, because Bob is also a secret mother hen, and he has these pot lucks, sometimes, where half the Chicago scene is invited. Pete Wentz, that crazy motherfucker, always brings a suspiciously amazing spaghetti squash lasagna.

 

For almost two years, it’s been like that, getting closer, knowing each other’s patterns, rhythms. Jon’s had friendships that matter, that can get you through the worst times and make the best times better, before this one. He’s had Tom almost his whole life, and can’t imagine one without him. But friendship with Bob is something special again, something new. Bob makes him feel calm, at ease. When they hang out, just the two of them, they never really do much, they don’t even drink or smoke up, most of the time. They just share a space, relaxed and low key, talking very little. It’s nothing like his afternoons taking a million pictures with Tom, practically high just from the rush of it, the feeling of capturing something special, something real. But he’s happy, happier than he’s ever been, he thinks, having both. 

 

So, all in all, Jon Walker is a pretty happy guy. He has lots of friends, a job he actually doesn’t hate, despite the fact that most people think he should, and while school isn’t totally blowing his mind, he enjoys his courses. Mostly, he enjoys free access to the photo lab whenever he likes, but there are other reasons school is alright. He’s met some cool people, different than the ones he would meet in the scene, and Jon is all about broadening his horizons and shit.

 

His absolute favorite, of the school people he’s met, is Spencer Smith. He can’t honestly say he and Spencer are friends, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be Jon’s favorite. Spencer and his best friend and probable brain-twin Ryan Ross were in an English class Jon took for a hot minute before dropping, but he stayed friendly with them as best he could. Ryan was dry and monotone and sneakily awesome, and Spencer was… Okay. Spencer was the prettiest person Jon had ever seen. He was also sassy, (“Have I mentioned that you’re sassy, Spencer Smith?”) and mean in all the right moments, and smart as hell. Spencer made Jon’s palms itch, made him smile inadvertently at the slightest bit of attention. They come to the ‘Bucks, not as often as Bob and Gerard, but enough that Jon looks forward to it, plans his breaks around it, when he can. 

 

The unfortunate thing is that Jon feels he doesn’t always put his most charming foot forward, when it comes to Spencer, because he has a very inconvenient tendency to knock things over and trip over his words whenever Spencer approaches the counter and cocks his hips as if to say, “I am already over the coffee I’m about to order, but I need you to make it for me anyway.”

 

Spencer and Ryan don’t usually come in at the same time as Bob, so this has been going on for several months before Bob is actually there to witness it. He’s in his usual spot at the end of the bar, drinking his ice tea lemonade and drumming his fingers against the counter, pretending like he isn’t watching Jon make a complete fool of himself while trying to give Spencer his change. Jon ignores the slight raise of Bob’s eyebrow until Spencer has flounced away, tossing a smile over his shoulder to Jon that pretty much makes his entire day. 

 

He waits until Spencer is distracted by whatever Ryan is saying to him, which involves a lot of hand waving and pointing at the ceiling, to approach Bob.

 

“Shut up,” he says warmly, as an opener.

 

Bob’s eyes chuckle. “What did I say? Nothing.”

 

Jon shakes his head knowingly, and wags a finger at Bob. “Don’t even try it, Bryar. We both know you were thinking it. Also, I saw that eyebrow. I know what it means.”

 

Bob leans forward a bit, “Yeah?”

 

Jon swallows. Bob is usually not one for invading other’s personal space, even though he will totally let people crawl all over him if they’re so inclined. 

 

Jon recovers with a grin. “In the twitch of an eyebrow, you both mocked my poor wooing skills and indicated you were embarrassed to be friends with me. That’s just cold, man.”

 

Bob doesn’t fight Jon’s assessment, but instead shakes his head and pats Jon’s arm. “Let no one know your private pain, my friend.”

 

Jon laughs and goes back to the register.

 

The next day Spencer is there alone, almost first thing. His shoulders have a determined set about them Jon isn’t used to seeing, and he actually looks nervous. Jon has come to assume Spencer’s disdain for the world is so committed he never gives enough of a crap to be nervous about anything.

 

“Hey Spencer, grande cappuccino with extra cinnamon?” Jon reflects, in passing, that he’s glad Bob isn’t there to silently call him out for having Spencer’s order memorized.

 

But Spencer is shaking his head, anyway. “No. I’m not here for coffee.”

 

Something hopeful and sharp happens inside Jon’s heart, “Oh yeah?” He tries for coy, and probably overshoots into desperate, but what the hell.

 

Spencer nods, nervous still. “That guy, who you were talking to yesterday, at the bar? Is he like,” Spencer stops, like he’s losing his resolve. He tries again, “Are you friends with him?”

 

Jon doesn’t even understand it, what happens in his chest, for a few seconds there. It’s some immediate and painful combination of disappointment, embarrassment, and jealously. It takes him by surprise, the power of it. He’d known he liked Spencer, had a definite crush, but he didn’t expect the loss to feel so all encompassing. 

 

Still. He is a nice guy, a good guy. “Yeah, that’s my good buddy, Bob. Don’t let the beard fool you, he’s a total teddy bear.”

 

Spencer blushes, and it’s so fucking cute Jon seriously considers going into the back to punch something. “I’ve been to a couple shows, with Ryan, where he’s been drumming.” He ducks his head, hiding his face behind his bangs. “He’s amazing.”

 

Despite his disappointment, Jon has seen Bob play, has been on stage with him, even, enough times to understand the awe in Spencer’s voice.

 

“Yeah, he’s that,” Jon agrees, because he can’t not. 

 

“I play, a little, I mean, Ryan and me. We’ve always messed around with that stuff, just learning covers, sometimes writing songs. I hadn’t played, though, for awhile, after coming here for college, but seeing him play. It made me itch to pick up the sticks again, you know?”

 

Of course. Of course Spencer would have a drummer crush on Bob. Jon doesn’t even play drums, and even HE has a drummer crush on Bob.

 

“We jam together, sometimes,” he’s telling Spencer before he can stop himself, before self preservation can kick in, “You should come out, next time. Bring Ryan if you want.” Adding the Ryan part is a courtesy. Jon assumes he would have done it anyway.

 

Something fierce and excited flashes across Spencer’s face before he schools his features back to their traditional, slightly bitchy, nonchalance. 

 

“He wouldn’t mind?” He does that dip behind his hair again. “You wouldn’t mind?”

 

And again, Jon’s saying, “Not at all,” with complete disregard for his own emotional stability. Being in a small room while Bob and Spencer drum and probably fall in total love with each other? No big deal. Of course he doesn’t mind.

 

But the way Spencer beams while Jon types his number into Spencer’s phone and tells him to come by his place Thursday night pretty much makes it worth it.

 

When Spencer is gone there aren’t any customers behind him, and Greta is cool, so he takes a moment to bang his head on the counter before carrying on with his shift. Pathetic as that is, it’s also true.

 

He waits until an hour before he told Spencer to show up to spring the news on Bob. It’s just them and Bob’s roommate, Ray Toro, who is maybe the best guitar player Jon knows, and Ray is busy fusting around on garage band anyway. Bob blinks at him, and for a second, Jon thinks he’s actually fucked up, like, badly. Bob’s shoulders tense and his face goes scarily blank, but it’s only for a second, and then it’s gone.

 

“You really like this kid, huh?” Bob says, slowly.

 

Jon shakes his head. “It’s not… it’s not about that anymore, he doesn’t…” He hasn’t mentioned the part where Spencer is totally in love with Bob, but he comes up with, “I’m pretty sure he’s interested in someone else. But, he’s a cool guy, still, you know? And I think you’ll really like Ryan, if you give him a chance. They just want to play some music, no big deal.”

 

Bob looks at him over, assessing the situation, and finally he nods, smiles. “Fair enough. You said he’s a drummer right?”

 

Jon nods, seeing the beginning of it, Bob’s warming up, already happening. “Yeah.”

 

Spencer and Ryan arrive, along with an insanely hyper dude who introduces himself in a jaunty little song he claims to have written spontaneously. It’s something about new friends and Disney, but Jon gleans from it that his name is Brendon. He has Bob smiling before he’s even through the door, so he gets points for that too.

 

Spencer has the same cute blushing thing going on around Bob that he had in the coffee shop, but it’s a little more amusing than simply endearing this time, because it’s accented with Ryan’s eye rolls and head shakes. Bob, who can put anyone at ease, if given the chance, totally finesses relaxation out of Spencer, though, and soon enough, they’re lost in an animated discussion of pedals and snares and shit. 

 

Jon drifts over to Ryan and Brendon, who are literally sitting at Ray’s feet, listening to him impart his great guitar god wisdom. Ray, who is earnest and so modest it’s ridiculous, is totally oblivious to the adoring looks Ryan and Brendon are serving him, and is talking rapidly about Led Zeppelin and his musical influences. Jon sits down beside Ryan, who pulls himself away from Toro worship to nudge Jon with a pointy shoulder.

 

“Thanks for inviting us. Spencer pretty much lost his mind, he was so happy about it. I also appreciate you inviting us to something so soon after he talked to you. I’m not sure I could have put up with more than two days of him repeating every single thing you said and asking what shirt I thought he should wear.”

 

Jon laughs, because Ryan has always been blunt and a little mean, in his experience, but in a way he’s never failed to find somehow endearing. 

 

“Yeah, I guess he was pretty excited to hang out with Bob.”

 

Ryan gives him a look, down the bridge of his nose, something like superior disbelief, but then it’s gone, and he shrugs. “Yeah. Spencer’s got a thing for musicians.”

 

At the end of the night, Spencer and Ryan leave with tentative waves, but Brendon hugs everyone in the room, and demands that Jon call him, “within the next 24 hours, Jon Walker. We need to sing together, I can feel it!”

 

Jon promises he will and shuts the door behind them. Bob chuckles and shakes his head. “I like them. You were right.”

 

Jon doesn’t feel nearly as happy about that as he’d wanted to be.

 

Over the next few months, it becomes a pattern. Or a routine. Whichever one means Spencer starts coming into the ‘Bucks more and more on his own, the times when Bob is there also, until Bob is coming in on his own, even without Gerard, too. Between Spencer’s classes and Bob’s shifts doing sound, they’ll filter in, one after the other, waving to Jon and smiling at each other. Then they sit at the bar together and talk, and Bob makes Spencer do that blushing laugh thing several times a day. Jon, who is at work, actually, doesn’t talk to them so much, and he tries not to pretend they’re there for any other reason but each other. He has customers to serve, so he can’t sit and stare at them, pretty as Spencer is. Nor can he, tragically, go into the back and kill everything, as much as the smile on Spencer’s face and the soft look Bob gets in his eye, whenever Spencer shows him the smile, makes him want to. Instead, he serves them, and watches them out of the corner of his eye, and tries to ignore the tightness his chest, the burning in his throat, so intense and constant he doesn’t even know, anymore, who he’s more jealous of. 

 

And when did that happen, seriously.

 

He understands about Spencer. He knew, okay. He knew he had a huge crush, something that wanted to be more than that, and is still growing, even now, despite his best and most sincere efforts. But Bob. Bob is his pal, his amigo. He thinks it’s a little sick, really, the way he’s suddenly noticing he shape of Bob’s shoulders, the steadiness in his hands, the way he actually happens to exude hotness in his every waking moment, now, of all times, when he’s seeing appreciation for all those things mirrored on Spencer’s frustratingly lovely face.

 

Practice is a little better. Or well, it’s not really practice, exactly; they have two drummers, two guitar players, a keyboardist who can sing like a Broadway starlet, and Jon. Who can sort of play bass, and can belt out back up with the enthusiasm he lacks in talent. They haven’t talked like they’re a band, really, but they write bits of songs together, and hang out as a group several nights a week. Ray’s the least intense guy about most things, but when he gets into talking about music, playing it, that’s something else entirely. His focus is matched by no one but Ryan, who absorbs every word Ray says into his crazy little brain, and gives back with sharp, insightful lyrics and surprisingly catchy hooks. 

 

At least when they’re jamming though, Jon can distract himself with Brendon and Ryan. Brendon, especially, is infinitely distracting. Jon can participate a bit more, too, insert himself into their conversations, play with them, and he can pretend a little easier than he isn’t on the sidelines of his own life, watching two people he’s come to love fall deeper in love with each other. 

 

He can admit that much to himself, most days. He can at least acknowledge that’s what’s happening. Spencer is obvious, so good at hiding his emotions except in this case, and Bob, for all his inscrutability, has tells of his own. Jon has known him long enough, well enough, to know the easy way Bob laughs with Spencer, the way he moves first to get closer beside him, all the little things, the ways he shows Spencer is someone he trusts, and he knows that isn’t for everyone. You have to be special, really special, to see that side of Bob, and Jon watches him over and over, showing it to Spencer.

 

Things start to get a little more serious with the music, so much that they might be tentatively calling themselves a band, of a kind. Ray and Ryan have Big Ideas, and write more and more parts together, with Brendon bouncing at their side, making suggestions and beaming. Ryan and Brendon have some sort of thing going on between them, but whatever it is, it’s going a lot more smoothly for them than Jon would have expected, knowing Ryan. He talked about it with Spencer once, and he just rolled his eyes affectionately and said, “Ryan shows it more, but Brendon is a stubborn fucker. It makes him hard to resist, after awhile.” Jon laughed, but he could see that. And Brendon brings smiles up to Ryan’s eyes, makes him relax in a way usually only Spencer can. Jon can see that much too.

 

So they have their thing, and it’s good, Jon is happy for them, and they’re putting songs together, two drummers aside. Ryan keeps saying that will be their hook, and Ray always nods enthusiastically. Jon doesn’t argue. When they’re playing together, when they have their rhythm right, Spencer and Bob are a fucking force to be reckoned with. But this other thing with them, the thing being how they’re crazy in love with each other, could be going a little better, Jon feels. 

 

Not that he’s exactly the relationships biggest cheerleader, but he cares about them, loves them even, maybe, and he’s not a complete asshole, alright? He can at least hope for their happiness, and if they can find it with each other, he can support that too. He eventually decides to take the matter to Bob, because even though he apparently been in love with him the whole time and never noticed, Bob’s been his friend for a long time, and they can still talk. He and Spencer can talk too, he’s gotten way better at not stuttering every time Spencer grins at him, or touches him, lights pats on the back, easy hugs at the end of practice. But still, Spencer’s clearly not going to do anything about it, not more than he has, and that leaves Bob.

 

He waits until they’re the last ones left in the apartment, except Toro, but he’s lost under his headphones anyway, to say, “So, you and Spencer.”

 

Bob just stares at him, still sitting behind his kit. “There isn’t a ‘me and Spencer,’ Jon,” he points out reasonably.

 

Jon shakes his head. “Yeah, but maybe there should be.”

 

Bob shakes his head, too.

 

Jon sighs. “Look, it’s okay. I mean, he really likes you and… you really like him too.”

 

Bob doesn’t deny it, but he gets up and walks over to Jon. “I know how you feel about him,” is all he says, like it’s all that matters.

 

Jon counts his blessings that at least Bob doesn’t know how he feels about both of them. This humiliation is bad enough.

 

“Look, don’t do it for me, alright? I’ll be fine, I can bounce back from a crush, you know? What you guys could have, it could be special. Don’t give that up on my account.”

 

Bob looks into him, that intense and searching way he has but rarely uses. “It’s not about that, not just.”

 

Jon doesn’t know what he could possibly mean, and he isn’t entirely sure he has the guts to ask, either, but he’s saved from the decision when Ray emerges from his headphones to demand Jon leave or, if he’s staying, at least order some pizza. Jon manages to laugh, and ducks out of the apartment a few moments later, avoiding Bob’s eyes.

***

When he gets to work the next day, he keeps his head down and serves customers, takes his break outside, and avoids thinking about Bob, or Spencer, or BobandSpencer, until his shift is almost done and suddenly Ryan comes in, all alone.

 

Ryan doesn’t usually come in without his entourage, which is really just Spencer and Brendon, but Brendon makes it seem like more people. 

 

Ryan comes up the counter and says, “You’re a special kind of stupid, Jon Walker. Meet me outside when your shift is up.”

 

Ryan is walking away before he even has a chance to respond, not that he knows what he would have said. He only has about 15 minutes left on his shift anyway, and Ryan makes it pretty clear that he’s going to wait until then, standing outside with his arms crossed determinedly, so Jon finishes up and meets him outside.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Ryan takes a good minute to glare disdainfully at Jon before shaking his head and softening a little. “Bob called Spencer this morning, and whatever he said to him, it wasn’t good, because Spencer’s been hiding in his room ever since.”

 

Jon winces. “Jesus.”

 

“He was crying, Jon,” Ryan informs him flatly.

 

Jon hugs himself a little, trying not to hear it.

 

“He put on fucking Alanis Morissette, he only plays that crap when he’s really upset.” Ryan looks fully aware that he’s twisting the knife, but he does it anyway. Jon thinks about Spencer, curled up, crying and listening to angry 90’s singer songwriters, and decides he deserves it.

 

“I was trying to help. You know, with him and Bob,” he offers, not as an excuse, just to say it. Because it is true, despite everything else. 

 

Ryan tilts his head, his left eyebrow arched.

 

“Him and Bob.”

 

“Yeah, I… I know how much he likes Bob, and okay, Bob is tricky, sometimes, telling what he thinks can be hard, but I know he likes Spencer too. I was just trying to, you know, facilitate that.”

 

Ryan looks at him piercingly. “Are you for real with this shit?” he demands.

 

Jon shrugs, taken aback. “Yeah? What do you mean?”

 

Ryan makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. “You don’t know? God, you really are a fucking moron, aren’t you?”

 

Jon holds his hands up in defense, because hey. He’s a little lovelorn, maybe, but he’s not quite as far gone as all that. 

 

“I was just trying to help, honestly. Bob,” he sighs, weighing the risk of giving this up. He continues, deciding Ryan can probably keep a secret when he needs to, if he thinks it deserves to be kept. “He knows that I… I have a thing for Spencer, I kind of always have, and Bob knew it, before, before we were even hanging out, you know? So when you guys started coming over, when it was clear how into Bob Spencer was, I tried to pull back, to ease up on that, but I guess I didn’t do such a good job, and Bob can tell. Luckily he can’t, I mean, this would be a lot easier, the letting go, if I wasn’t basically in love with both of them at this point.” 

 

Ryan doesn’t react at all to this.

 

“But I swear, I’m okay with them being together, I want them to be happy. They. They deserve that, you know?” He shrugs. “They deserve each other.”

 

Ryan takes this in, meeting it with neutral silence. 

 

Jon forces himself to continue. “But Bob, Bob’s just, he’s too nice a guy, I guess. He won’t take what should be his, he won’t try with Spencer, because he knows that I… He just doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s a great friend, you know. I’m sure he never meant to hurt Spencer, just like I didn’t.” God, what a clusterfuck. This whole situation. 

 

Ryan is so still Jon wants to push him a little, just to see if he’s still actually up there, in his head. Slowly, Ryan shakes his head.

 

“God damn idiots, all of you.”

 

Jon’s a patient guy, but seriously. He’s kind of having the worst day of his life as it is; being called an idiot repeatedly is a bit too much, right now. “Seriously, Ryan, lay off, man. I’m trying here.”

 

Ryan sighs, and somehow, now, of all times, breaks out into a smile. “Yeah, I can see that. Too bad you’re trying with the most ass backwards, opposite land strategy ever.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Ryan shakes his head. “It’s not my secret to tell, alright? Jon, just, you have to trust me on this, just for a little longer. Do you have to be anywhere tonight?”

 

Confused as hell, Jon shrugs. “No. I was just going to go home.”

 

Ryan nods. “Okay, fine. Just, go home and stay there. Promise me, alright? Stay at home.”

 

Jon thinks about demanding to know why, what the hell Ryan is planning, but Ryan looks at him, seriously and almost pleading, and he can only agree.

 

“Alright, Ry. I’ll stay at home.”

 

Because he promised, and because it’s Ryan, who has never asked Jon for anything in the whole time he’s known him, he does just that. He tries to play bass, but it reminds him, predictably, of all the things he’s trying to forget. He finally gives in and does what he’s been wanting to for months, calls Tom from the road and practically cries his heart out to him. Tom, who is Jon’s best friend and has been for years for a reason, manages not to make fun of Jon once, and instead makes all the right noises, sympathetic, supportive, kind. At the end of their almost two hour conversation he tells him to, “Buck up, little Jonny,” but in a way that makes Jon smile.

 

“I’ll try man.”

 

Tom gives him his love, and that of the rest of his guys, and Jon wishes them luck on tour and hangs up.

 

He sits there, in silence, until there’s a knock on his door. He startles out of his funk and gets up to answer, checking first in the peep hole to discern a determined Ryan standing in front, Spencer sulking, and Bob looming behind him. Jon swallows, briefly and wildly considers not opening the door, and then steps out of the way to let them in.

 

Ryan herds Spencer inside, and Bob follows of his own free will.

 

No one says anything until Ryan huffs and throws his arms up in the air. “I can’t believe I’m the most emotionally well adjusted person in this room.” He looks at them all sternly. “I’m embarrassed for y’all.” With that, he flounces out of the apartment, shutting the door pointedly behind him.

 

Jon scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, finding the most fascinating cracks in the ceiling. 

 

Bob, because he’s Bob, finally takes the situation in hand. “Guys,” he says softly, the quiet way he has when he’s saying something important enough that he just knows people will have to listen, “I think maybe there’s been a pretty massive misunderstanding.”

 

Spencer laughs, panicked and hurt, more like a choke, really, and Jon steps out towards him before he even realizes it. He stops short, less than two feet away, and forces his hand down. Bob is watching them both carefully. Spencer pushes his hair out of his face and crosses his arms defensively, but doesn’t speak.

 

“I,” Jon begins, his voice cracking. “I want you guys to be happy, that’s all. I think you can be happy together, I see you, already, how good you are and that’s, that’s what I want for you.” He’ll leave it up to Bob to decide whether Spencer gets to know about how he feels, but saying that much, at least, he can do himself.

 

It doesn’t really have the intended effect though, because Bob is shaking his head emphatically, and seeing that, Spencer bites down on his lip so hard he’s clearly battling tears, or, knowing Spencer, more likely a scream.

 

“That’s not,” Bob is still shaking his head, slower now, like he’s thinking it over in his head. “There’s no us, Jon. No happily ever after, just me and Spencer.”

 

Spencer’s lip is going white under his teeth, and he looks out the window, away from them.

 

“Why not… fuck, Bob. Look at him!” Jon finds himself shouting. “What the fuck is my broken heart in the face of that!” He stretches his arm out towards Spencer, his eyes pleading with Bob.

 

Spencer jerks around at this, his eyes huge, chest moving rapidly under frantic breath. “What are you talking about?” 

 

Jon takes a step back, almost frightened by the look in Spencer’s eyes, but resolves to answer. He can give them this, the truth, all of it, if maybe at the end of it Spencer will stop looking like he is, and the still, tense sorrow will leave Bob’s shoulders. 

 

But before he can force the words out of his mouth, Spencer is turning angrily on his heels, marching towards the door. Bob, who Jon has never seen give ground to anyone unless he knew they needed it, steps mutely aside.

 

Spencer stops, facing the door for a long and painful moment, before turning back, hands on his hips, his glare perfected to cut and defend. 

 

“Spencer,” Jon beings slowly, trying not to spook him into leaving. “Please.”

 

“Please what, asshole?” He practically spits the words.

 

Jon looks to Bob, for guidance, for the right words, and Bob just shakes his head sadly.

 

Spencer strangles a shout, but it’s as much as he can contain, because immediately after he launches into a choked tirade,

 

“You know what – fuck both of you and your noble shit. I always knew, okay? That I was just… that it was just a distraction, just a passing thing, just – I know what I am. But I thought… I hoped – and fuck you both – you let me hope – that there might be something, some way for me to be a part of what you feel for each other. But there isn’t and that’s… I get it. I wish I hadn’t spent the last six months starting to believe something different, but fuck it, life is hard, you move on. But this… this bullshit about not being together just because… because you both think the other one is interested in me? Maybe you are, a little, but you clearly, what you feel for each other it’s… I’m nothing, compared with that.”

 

Jon doesn’t know to deal with that, how to accept it, because that he knows he can’t. “Spence you’re not… you’re not nothing. You’re…” He looks at Bob, who shakes his head, too many emotions clogging his throat. “Spencer you’re everything.” He runs his hands roughly through his hair, trying to make sense of how he could have gotten everything so wrong.

 

“You’re… both of you are so, so much. Do you understand? Spence, I’ve… I’ve wanted you, wanted to be around you, since the moment I saw you. You were – you are the most – the prettiest and sharpest and brightest person and you could never be – would never be anyone’s distraction.”

 

Bob nods emphatically, but Spencer isn’t looking at him, he’s still glaring at Jon, trying to find the lie in his words.

 

“I’ve SEEN you, okay?” Spencer responds finally, some of his anger giving way to a quieter resignation. “The way Bob looks at you, the way you look at him? Fuck, it was what made me notice you, each of you, in the first place. Seeing that much feeling on your faces. I’m saying I KNEW all along, the way you are together, like you’ve been living your lives side by side for as long as it’s mattered, and really, who did I think I was? Nothing compared to that, to get in the way of that. NOTHING. So fuck you for making me think maybe I mattered, and fuck you double for using me as an excuse for giving up something that does.”

 

Jon stands there, stunned, too shocked and ripped open to speak. He can’t get to the meaning behind Spencer’s words, can only hear the pain and loss in them. The look of utter certainty in his eyes when he called himself nothing. Nothing.

 

But something is shifting for Bob, Jon can see that, his stance is changing, the set of his face is relaxing, just the slightest bit. 

 

He’s turning into Spencer, moving closer, and it’s breaking Jon’s heart to see. Spencer’s words are still ringing in his ears, but he trusts Bob. After all this and till the end, he trusts Bob to make it right, to make sense of this mass of hope and jealously in his heart.

 

When Bob reaches out and touches Spencer’s cheek, Jon can see Spencer leaning into it helplessly. 

 

“Spence, when I called you and told you I couldn’t… That we couldn’t ever be what I dreamed you might want us to be? That was fucking stupid as hell. I mean, I’ve said some stupid shit in my life, but I’m going to have to say that took the cake.”

 

Spencer glares at him, despite the way he’s melting into Bob’s side by inches. He doesn’t disagree.

 

“Do you know what I should have said?” Bob asks, almost, tenderly.

 

Spencer shakes his head warily.

 

“I should have told you the fucking truth. I should have said you’re a spitfire – that you have heat and humor and when I watch you drum, I remember why I wanted to do it in the first place.” 

 

Jon watches as Spencer’s face turns from fury and devastation to something alight, fierce, and proud. Jon can only agree silently with Bob’s assessment. 

 

He wants to push them together, the last inches, and then slink away to disappear. And then, frankly, get really drunk. But Bob has always taken better care of him than that, and maybe he should know that by now.

 

Because Bob is taking Spencer’s hand, leading them both closer to Jon.

 

“Jon,” they say together, almost smiling.

 

He shakes his head, stepping away. Not ready to believe, not ready to see.

 

“Jon,” Spencer repeats, softer, like a request, or instruction. “Be brave.”

 

Bob looks at Spencer, that same mix of warmth and humor Jon’s seen so many times, and he reaches out, but instead of touching Spencer, he puts his hand on Jon’s shoulder.

 

“There are other things I should have told him,” Bob continues, looking still at Jon. ”I should have told him that I thought I could love him, that I probably already did. Except I was already in love with someone else, had been long enough I was pretty sure I wasn’t likely to stop, maybe not ever. And because he’s all those things, everything I should have said about him, except I was afraid to, too proud to, and more, I could never ask him to be everything for me when I could only be part of myself for him, could only give him that much.”

 

Jon can feel the blood rushing in his ears. 

 

“I hung up the phone. I hung up the phone and threw it at the wall. But what I should have done was tell him welcome to the fucking club,” Spencer finishes, his eyes blazing with a sudden confidence.

 

Jon thinks he’s never seen something as amazing as that look on Spencer’s face, except maybe Bob’s smile, reflecting it back at him. 

 

Jon feels himself sway a little, light headed, stunned, and Bob’s arm shoots out, steadying him. Spencer is there too, in the same instant, watching his other side. Jon swallows, blinks back what want to be tears.

 

“Both of you?”

 

“Both of us, Jon.”

 

He looks at them both, standing at the ready, everything he’s wanted all these months, just close enough to touch.

 

He reaches out slowly, and their hands come to meet with his.

 

“All of us.”


	2. love is a place

When Spencer opened the letter informing him he had won the scholarship to go to the university of his dreams, the one he had worked his ass off for four years to even have a chance of getting into, he didn't feel proud or happy or excited. Or maybe some part of him did, some part deep down that had made him fill out the grueling application in the first place, but that wasn't the part that made him drop the letter and dash to the bathroom, wasn't the part in control when he threw up all the contents of his stomach.

It wasn't that he didn't think he could do the work, didn't think he was good enough for Harvard - Harvard, and their incredibly attractive and challenging anthropology graduate program. It wasn't that he was afraid he was going to fail and have to move into his parents' basement, although he was sure that fear would come.

It was because Harvard was in fucking Massachusetts, while Spencer's whole life was in Chicago. Or more specifically, all the things that made his life worth living, made getting up in the morning a pleasure, most days, were in Chicago. Chicago was where Jon was. Where Bob was. It was where they all were together, sharing a life, building one.

And no Ivy League University, no matter how renowned, no matter how perfectly designed its curriculum, could compete with that.

Except, it was freaking Harvard. Not just Harvard: school everyone knows about. Harvard: Spencer's dream school. The one he'd been scheming about getting into since he was approximately 11 years old. How many times had he pictured himself strolling around its stately grounds? Reading under its trees and falling asleep in its libraries? He was always supposed to go there, to go there and do brilliant, groundbreaking things.

Spencer can totally admit he was kind of an intense 11 year old.

But when he was 11, or even 17, 21, he hadn't had a a Jon OR a Bob and he'd seen himself as going somewhere, on a path, not setting down roots that would prove agonizing to even consider well... uprooting.

Completely torn and dangerously close to throwing up again, Spencer called Ryan and demanded he come over, because that's what best friends did when one of them was having a crisis.

"Both an academic and a romantic crisis, Ryan!" Spencer shouted, ordering Ryan over.

Ryan rolled his eyes, Spencer could totally hear it over the phone, and agreed to be over immediately.

Ryan made it over in less than 15 minutes, but he was clearly an asshole who wasn't taking this seriously at all, because he was mildly stoned when he arrived and he pretty much laughed when Spencer explained his dilemma.

Before Spencer even got the chance to yell at Ryan and call him an asshole, Ryan was cutting in with a mild pout.

"Anyway, you should really be the one comforting me right now."

Spencer's panic was momentarily derailed by confused outrage, "What are you talking about," and then to make himself feel better he threw in an, "asshole?"

Ryan frowned, quite nearly sincerely. "Aside from the fact that you're my best friend and you're about to move away and be important and brilliant without me," Spencer felt a spasm of loss, just thinking about it, but Ryan smiled slightly like it was actually going to be okay, "But what about the band?"

Despite the level of reverence with which Ryan said the word, Spencer snorted before he could stop himself. The band he, Ryan, Brendon, Ray, Bob and Jon had often discussed had never really become a band at all, no matter how many times Ryan called it that and consulted with Ray about the band name. Right now he was calling it Juicebox for reasons no one really wanted to ask about. It was really still just more of an excuse to hang out in a group once or twice a week in what used to be Bob and Ray's apartment until Ray kicked Bob out because of all the sex he was having with Jon and Spencer. (Bob lived with Jon now, and Spencer was over most nights, although he technically still lived with Ryan. Spencer was going to have to make Brendon move in if he really left to go grad school, because Ryan would be out of heat, light and water a month after Spencer left otherwise.) So, the band wasn't really a band, and what Ryan was really complaining about was that he was going to lose his excuse to hang out with and stare adoringly at Ray on a weekly basis. Ryan and Brendon had been ineptly trying to seduce Ray for months now, and he was completely aware of it, but had so far managed to evade their clutches. Bob said it was because Ray didn't think he was pretty or energetic enough to keep up with them, which was fucking bullshit in Spencer's opinion, but Ray was weird like that. Honestly Spencer didn't understand how the guy could ever think he wasn't attractive enough, especially not for the ridiculous likes of Ryan and Brendon. Hadn't Ray ever, like, seen his thighs?

Spencer called Ryan on all it with a look, and Ryan let the subject go after making one final pouty scrunchy face.

Now that the conversation was back to Spencer and his impending doom, he felt the panic hit him again with renewed force. He wanted to sit down, but he needed to be standing for the arm flapping. He did that for awhile, flapped his arms and tried to explain how serious a problem this was, and Ryan laughed again.

"Just ask them to come with you, you idiot," Ryan instructed blithely when Spencer squawked indignantly at his laughter, his hands on his hips.

Spencer laughed, bordering on hysteria. Yeah, right.

"Ryan I can't do that, are you kidding me? They have like..." he flapped his hands, "whole lives here."

Ryan rolled his eyes, thoroughly unimpressed. "Whatever, Spence. Any random person walking down the street who saw the three of you together would be able to tell that you're their whole life. Their whole fucking world."

Spencer's face flushed and prickled unpleasantly at how strongly he wished that were true. It would be nice to have feelings like the reciprocated. But... he just didn't see it.

He never had, really. There had been enough to measure up to when it had just been Jon, effortlessly cool and goofily charming Jon. Spencer had fallen for him immediately and he'd been frankly heartbroken when Jon dropped the class they were taking together, the class where he and Jon had first met. In fact, he did nothing but mope and pine for weeks until one day Ryan dragged him out of the crappy apartment they shared wearing a smug grin the entire time, and brought him to the Starbucks where, it was revealed dramatically Ryan's swooping intro, Jon worked. So he'd gotten to keep Jon and foster his crush and that had been bad enough, hard enough on the ego and Spencer's carefully maintained sense of dignity.

But then Ryan had started dragging him to shows again and Spencer had seen Bob, Bob fucking Bryar who was ten kinds of a god, and most significantly, a god on the drums and Spencer had fallen all over again. He hadn't ever even expected to get to talk to Bob but suddenly there Bob was, breathing the same air as Jon, talking to him even, clearly his friend. And of course it was just Spencer's luck that as amazing as they were separately was peanuts in comparison to how awesome they were when they were together.

Spencer's world had spun a little, and his heart had skipped a beat, watching them talk and tease each other and be unfairly perfect, and then Ryan had laughed at him and dared him to go ask if they were dating. And because Spencer would never quite stop being six years old when it came to Ryan and their friendship, and because he had his pride, he'd taken the bet and that had set in motion a series of events Spencer still can't really believe.

They'd all become friends, real friends, they'd played music together and Spencer had fallen more and more in love until he thought it wasn't possible, shouldn't be possible, for one person to feel so much. And then, just when he thought he was going to lose them both, just when he thought they were going to realize they were perfect, not for him but for each other, they had opened their hearts and made room for him.

It was something he had never expected, never allowed himself to hope for. And even now, almost a year later, it was still something he couldn't quite believe he deserved.

Given that, given them and everything they were, so much more than him, older and more established in their lives, in their senses of themselves, so much more rooted in each other, there was no possible way he, the silly, smart-mouthed distraction, was going to start making demands. Certainly not the kind of demands that involved making them leave their jobs and friends and family and move halfway across the country with him.

Yeah fucking right.

And he told Ryan so, he told Ryan all of it in one long, frenzied sentence until he ran out of breath. But Ryan just sighed and shook his head, looking at Spencer like he couldn't decide if he thought Spencer was sad or just stupid.

"Spence, if either of them was actually that kind of asshole, if they didn't actually love you like I know they do - like you're everything, exactly like you deserve - do you really think I'd let them anywhere near you?" Ryan actually looked pretty offended, and it was that more than anything that made Spencer take a minute to consider Ryan might have a point.

"But..."

"Spencer, seriously. I'm telling you - just ask them. You owe them that much at least." He shrugged. "Just ask them and see what they say. If I'm wrong, you can totally punch me in the face, and I promise I'll still buy you ice cream and watch Anne of Green Gables with you afterwards and everything."

Spencer glared, twitching his hips crankily, "The whole series? Not just Anne of Green Gables - the one where she goes to university and gets married and stuff too," he bargained.

Ryan smiled, real and fond. He was a pushy asshole, but there were reasons Spencer put up with him. "If it comes to that, which it won't, then I promise. The whole series." His face got serious again. "Just ask, Spence. You might find you mean more to them than you think."

Spencer sucked in a breath and tried not to hope too hard that Ryan was right.

*

 

He absolutely was going to tell them, too. Not because he believed it was the right thing to do, but because he had promised Ryan, and Spencer always kept his promises to Ryan. So he was totally planing on it, he was working his way up to it and everything, except he kept getting distracted by Bob's low, rumbly laugh and Jon's lazy smiles and there was always a good reason to put it off, not to break the mood. And maybe he was afraid. Okay, obviously he was, but why shouldn't he be? Why shouldn't he let that fear stall him a bit while he soaked up every moment with them he could, knowing those moments were quite possibly numbered? He wouldn't go. If they told him no, told him they wouldn't come along, he wouldn't go. He would defer his acceptance, or apply again later, but he wouldn't give them up a second before he had to. Not Bob and Jon. But that would probably be the beginning of the end anyway. They'd start to realize how seriously he was taking this thing, them, and they were bound to want out. And they weren't assholes, they weren't, and if that's how they reacted, they still wouldn't be. He knew they would let him down gently, knew they would be kind and loving, because that's what they were.

But that wasn't the same as being willing to put your whole life on hold for someone, to move away from the only home you've ever known and follow someone to live out their dreams at the expense of your own. It didn't mean, even, that they didn't love him. It wouldn't mean that. So he would take what he could get while he could get it, and he would remember it and them after it was over, if that's what happened in the end.

But he was going to tell them. He would tell them, and he would ask, because he'd promised Ryan, and because he knew himself well enough to know the what-ifs would plague him forever if he didn't.

He would ask and one way or another, he would know, except he never actually got that far because one afternoon, about two weeks after the letter first arrived, he got home and found Jon sitting at his kitchen table, staring at Spencer's letter, his face shocked and bleak. Bob was looming over Jon's shoulder, wearing a matching expression.

Spencer swallowed and seriously considered running right back out the door.

This feeling is only increased when Jon held up the letter and choked out, "Going somewhere?"

Spencer folded his arms defensively and got mean like he always did when he was feeling cornered. "Maybe I am. So what?"

If possible, this made Jon look even more baffled, even more hurt. "So what?" he echoed faintly.

Bob put a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder and Spencer felt a pang, wondering if Bob would ever touch him like that again.

"Yeah, so what if I am," Spencer continued, letting his temper get the better of him again. "It's an amazing opportunity. It's everything I've been working for."

Jon shook his head like that wasn't the point and Spencer glared harder, he opened his mouth to say something else he would regret, but Bob cut in before he got the chance.

"Why didn't you tell us?" He asked the question carefully, his voice even and neutral. Spencer usually admired Bob for the way he could control his temper, avoid taking it out on people. But sometimes he really fucking wished he could push Bob, could mean enough to Bob to cause a visceral reaction.

"I was getting around to it," Spencer hedged, tossing his head slightly.

Jon's face maintained the same pinched, forlorn look it had when Spencer arrived.

"We could have celebrated," he murmured.

Spencer swallowed a shock of fear, "Celebrated my leaving?" It came out before he could stop himself.

Jon just looked at Bob like he couldn't make sense anymore and needed Bob to take over; it was a fairly familiar exchange in their relationship. Bob often had trouble locating his own, but like always, he found Jon's words.

"Celebrated your achievement, Spence. Like you said, this is a big fucking deal."

Jon nodded, Bob's intro giving him his footing, "We're proud of you, Spencer. We've always been proud but... this is such an accomplishment."

Spencer tried to hear that, tried to see pride on their faces, but mostly he saw Jon's still-shellshocked face and Bob's gruff neutrality. He shrugged awkwardly.

"Thanks, I guess."

Jon's hands reached out for a second, but he pulled them back hesitantly. Bob's hands stayed where they were, on Jon's shoulders.

"When do you leave?" Jon asked faintly.

Spencer tensed. So it was like going to be like that, then. "The program starts in May, so I guess I can be out of your way in less than two months."

Jon shook his head, "Out of our--"

"But don't worry, I can make myself scarce before then. You won't have to see me at all if you--"

Bob looked like he was going to move, to break away from Jon and go to Spencer, but he couldn't handle that right now, not with what was coming, and instead of giving Bob the chance Spencer turned and bolted from the apartment. He didn't slow down until long after he was sure no one was following him.

*

 

He hid at Brendon's, which wasn't the best hiding place in the world considering how many times Bob and Jon had been there with him, but he figured it was good enough if no one was going to try very hard to find him. Also, Brendon was way nicer about the whole thing than Ryan would have been; he only called Spencer an idiot once, whereas Ryan would have shouted it repeatedly until Spencer did something about it.

He and Brendon watched cooking shows and Animal Planet on DVD for three days until there was a knock on the door that Spencer identified immediately as Bob's angry knock. He swallowed a little, scared and something else... something that came from being away from Bob and Jon for three days and what that did to his insides. Brendon gave him a questioning look, and Spencer managed to nod.

"It's okay, I'll answer it."

Brendon gave Spencer's arm a squeeze and then he stuck his thumb over his shoulder, indicating that he was going to head out the balcony which led to the fire escape. For a second Spencer wanted to protest, but then he decided it was better if he faced this alone.

He waited until Brendon was gone and then he walked slowly to the door, opening it to Bob's furious glare and Jon's white, exhausted face.

He shrunk into himself and whispered, "I'm sorry," because he was. He wasn't a shitty, selfish child but he was doing a pretty good impression. That had to stop.

"Be careful about what you're apologizing for," Bob all but growled.

Spencer pretty much thought he deserved it. But still, he knew what to say to that one, "I ran away instead of talking to you guys; I got mad instead of trusting you and you deserve better. You've earned so much fucking better from me than that."

Bob's face softened and Jon pushed past him, coming up close to Spencer and putting a hesitant hand on his face. He tilted Spencer's chin up and they looked at each other silently, checking for any changes the time apart might have made.

Bob didn't approach, but something like an approving smile flitted across his face.

Spencer knew he had to be the one to start again so he said, "Let's... let's sit down maybe? And talk like civilized people?"

Bob smiled for real at this. "Sounds like a decent idea,"

They followed him to Brendon's kitchen table and sit down together, Bob and Jon on one side, Spencer on the other. He tried not to assume the arrangement was symbolic.

"I freaked," he began, just in case they didn't know.

They nodded like they did.

Spencer thought they might not quite understand why though, so he tried to explain, "I freaked because... it's like, I'm okay about accepting not getting what I want when that happens, but suddenly I was getting the two things I wanted most in the world at once but they didn't go together! They didn't fit and I could only have one but I wanted them both so badly and it was like I was getting ripped in two, you know? That part of me that's always wanted this, that old dream, and then the part of me that can't see anything, can't want anything but the two of you."

Bob shook his head slowly, and Spencer felt the panic rising again.

"What made you so sure you couldn't have both?"

Spencer felt like he got knocked over, "What?" He asked faintly.

"Both, Spencer," Jon said with careful emphasis on both words. "You're so sure you can't have both, why not?"

He shook his head, "Because... because I'm... you live here, you're here and the school is there and that's... that doesn't fit!" h protests, hands starting to flap a little.

Bob moved, faster than people might think he was capable of, considering how sturdy and solid he appeared. His hands found Spencer's and Bob held them both, steadying him. "Spencer, calm down, please. Take a second to actually listen to what we're saying."

Spencer pretty much worshiped Bob; it was probably unhealthy, actually, how much. Regardless, he had a hard time not doing what Bob told him to when he used his command voice. He swallowed and tried to.

"We're happy for you, because we love you and we want you to succeed. We want your dreams to come true, and we know this is one of yours." Spencer had never told them that, had never spoken about his application or the years he'd been planning his life around it. Probably Ryan had sold him out, or maybe... maybe they just knew him. Maybe they paid attention.

Spencer nodded to show Bob he was listening.

"This is a big thing, a big change, but we want to be a part of that, we want to give you the things you want. We talked about it, not that there was much to talk about beyond - shit, how quickly can we arrange everything so we can do this, but. But if you don't... if this is something you want to do alone, if you need that, you have to tell us." He paused, looking at Jon. Jon just nodded, a bit frantically, like he didn't want Bob to waste the time Spencer was actually paying attention checking things he should already know. "If you don't want us to come with you, well, that would suck. A lot. But if it's what you need, okay. I'd.. we'd still - "

"We'd wait for you, Spencer. If you'd let us." Jon finished, and Bob nodded, satisfied.

Spencer wondered if his ears were ringing or if it was just the shock making him stupid. "What?" he demanded, shaking his head like there was something in there that was making him hear wrong.

"Spencer, we love you. We want to come with you." Jon spoke slowly, enunciating every word so there was no chance of Spencer mishearing.

Spencer felt like he had made enough of an ass of himself, but still, his voice came out weak and surprised when he asked, "Really?"

Then Jon was up too, both of them were surrounding him, hovering close and protective.

"Really, Spence," Bob said. He looked angry, and for a second Spencer started to panic again, but it seemed Spencer wasn't the one he was mad at when he said, "Jesus. I really thought I was doing a better job of showing you that." He looked at Jon worriedly. "You know I'm in love with you so deep I don't even know what to do with myself, right? I know I'm not... the most expressive guy, but I try to show you even though I don't always know how to tell you."

Jon smiled, a real and happy smile, and Spencer took a moment just to enjoy how beautiful Jon looked when he was genuinely happy. "Yeah, Bob, I know." He turned to Spencer, "I thought you knew too. About him, about me. I mean, that's what we've all been doing the past year, right? Loving each other?" Jon looked suddenly unsure.

Spencer stuttered, horrified all over again that he was making them doubt what he felt for them, "Of course! I've always... you're both just so - so much more than me and I have trouble, you have whole lives here and I don't know why you would--"

"What exactly do you think we have that's so much more than you? Honestly, Spence, I haven't had one steady job my whole life, sometimes I get paid for shows and sometimes I don't, and I love it, I wouldn't change it, but that's... that's me and I can take that anywhere."

Jon interrupted Bob, "And I work at fucking Starbucks, Spence. I take pictures, that's what I do that matters, but I can do that anywhere, you know? And Bob will always kick ass at drums and know how to make even the shittiest bands sound good live anywhere, too, and he can take that show on the road just as well. So there are parts of us that matter, sure, but what matters most to us is you - is the three of us, being together. That's the best part of my life," Bob nodded, permission, "the best part of Bob's. And that doesn't make sense, it wouldn't work, not without you. So if you want to do this, and you should because you'll be fucking amazing, you have to let us come with you. Please, Spencer, let us come with you."

Spencer was actually a little dizzy, the euphoria was rushing to his head so fast. He just barely stopped himself from clapping triumphantly. "I've never been so happy to have been so fucking wrong and stupid about something in my entire life!" he shouted, fist pumping involuntarily.

Jon laughed, and so did Bob and Spencer beamed at both of them as they closed in for a group hug. He breathed them in, felt secure and happy in their arms for a whole second before the second wave of panic hit,

"Holy shit, I actually have to go to Harvard. I'm going to fail and then die,"

What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? Applying and tricking them into accepting him? He was going to be the worst failure in the history of the universe!

He was about to say so when Bob and Jon's arms tightened around him.

"I don't hang with failures," Bob said gruffly, meaning I love you. Spencer was actually listening now, and he could finally hear what Bob meant.

"Same," Jon said, meaning it too.

Spencer opened his eyes and looked at their faces, proud and so close up, and couldn't help but believe them. They were pretty smart guys, so as long as Bob and Jon thought he was good enough he pretty much had to agree. After all, their standards were really the only ones that mattered to him. Harvard was all very well and good, but it was considerably more rewarding to finally realize just how high those particular standards ranked him.


End file.
